


What's in a Name?

by whatstheproblembaby



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Identity, Mostly Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 19:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30060402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatstheproblembaby/pseuds/whatstheproblembaby
Summary: Shelagh doesn't realize just how much the new crop of nurses and nuns don't know about her.
Relationships: Bernadette | Shelagh Turner & Trixie Franklin, Bernadette | Shelagh Turner/Patrick Turner
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29





	What's in a Name?

**Author's Note:**

> I noticed that all the other married nurses get called "Nurse Whoever," but Shelagh is always "Mrs. Turner," and I wanted to explore why that might be.

Shelagh had thought she was above eavesdropping in corners in Nonnatus House after Trixie and Cynthia had roped her into their spying on Jenny and Alec all those years ago, but apparently, some things stayed with you. She was approaching the dining room from the hall, intending to enjoy a quick cup of tea and a catch-up with Trixie as she waited for Patrick to finish with an ulcer case, but the voices coming from the kitchen made her pause and shrink back into the wall. She was likely still visible if someone took the effort to look from the dining room - and anyone coming from the end of the hall would think she was ridiculous - but she thought the conversation that was going on might not benefit from her presence just yet.

“Trixie, you’ve been here the longest,” Lucille began.

“Yes, thank you for reminding me, Lucille,” Trixie replied with a faux-irritated huff.

“You know that’s not what I meant. You’re still a young woman, and you have valuable knowledge that the rest of us appreciate,” Lucille said. Shelagh could just barely see them entering the dining room out of the corner of her eye, noticing what she thought was a quick, loving hand squeeze between the two women as they and the others took their seats. “Especially about the history of Nonnatus.”

“That’s true,” Sister Hilda cut in. Sister Frances nodded emphatically beside her. “They give us some background at the Mother House, of course, but it’s no substitute for actually having your boots on the ground here.”

“I see…,” Trixie said. She took a sip of her Horlicks before continuing, “And what exactly about the history of Nonnatus do you want to know?”

“It’s not about the history of Nonnatus precisely, but it’s related. I think,” Lucille said, sipping her own drink. “It’s about Mrs. Turner.”

“She should be here in a moment,” Trixie said. Shelagh flattened herself even more against the wall when Trixie leaned out to scan the hallway for her, but to no avail - she saw Trixie’s eyes widen as they locked with her own. Shelagh shook her head, just once. Thankfully Trixie got the message, smoothly saying, “You could just ask her then.”

“I don’t know if what I’m about to ask is...painful, somehow.” Shelagh quirked an eyebrow at Lucille’s choice of adjective. “If you don’t know the answer, though, then I will ask once she arrives.”

“Fire away, sweetie,” Trixie said. She looked back up to where Shelagh was hiding, her face a perfectly unruffled mask. Shelagh could see in her eyes that she too had no idea where Lucille was taking this question, though.

“Why do we call Mrs. Turner ‘Mrs. Turner’ when we all called Barbara ‘Nurse Hereward’ after she got married? She’s also a nurse - are we being disrespectful?”

“I’ve wondered that, too!” Sister Frances chimed in. “She puts in as much work as the rest of us. Doesn’t she deserve the title?”

Shelagh pressed her lips together, stifling a laugh. She had been so worried about gossip and stigma when she first left the Order - she had never imagined that she would be so absorbed into her new life that people might not know anything about her past at all. Of course, she had never imagined that the staff at Nonnatus would shift quite so frequently, either. Once, it would have been Cynthia, Jenny, and Chummy sitting at that table with Trixie, and they would have had no need to ask.

“I suppose the simplest answer is that for quite a while, we never expected Shelagh to become Mrs. Turner,” Trixie said. “It was a joy for us to be able to say it, and she did retire briefly from nursing when she married. We just got used to it.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Shelagh said, finally stepping into the dining room and revealing herself. A chorus of startled noises punctuated her statement, along with Sister Frances splashing her Horlicks onto the table.

“Oh, lass,” Phyllis sighed, pushing herself up to grab a dishcloth from the kitchen. “Hasn’t the East End trained the jumpiness out of you yet?”

“I’m sorry!” Sister Frances said, taking the cloth and mopping up her spill. “But why didn’t anyone expect you to marry Dr. Turner, Mrs. - I mean, Nurse-”

“Right now, I think you should all just call me Shelagh,” she cut in, taking Sister Monica Joan’s usual seat at the foot of the table. Trixie got up at that, walking over to the kitchen to pour Shelagh a mug of Horlicks, too. “Or were you going to be circumspect about my first name as well, Trixie?”

“Had they asked, quite possibly!” Trixie said, passing Shelagh her mug and taking her seat again. “I didn’t realize your past was such ancient history. Or is it classified under the Official Secrets Act?”

“ _What_ are you two talking about?” Val interjected, looking from Shelagh to Trixie and back like it was a match at Wimbledon. “You’re making it sound like she has a secret identity or something.”

“Maybe she’s a Russian spy,” Phyllis teased. “Come to get classified intel on birthing babies for the Kremlin!”

“Close,” Shelagh said with a laugh. “But to answer your question, Sister Frances, I need to ask you and Sister Hilda one of my own first. Did anyone at the Mother House ever mention a sister who left the order back in 1958?”

“Not to me,” Sister Frances said. “But I only just took my life vows.”

Sister Hilda bit her lip for a moment before saying, “Now that you mention it, it rings a bell. I think Mother Jesu Emmanuel said something at dinner one day, but she didn’t say which sister it was. Did you know her, Shelagh?”

Trixie snorted into her mug.

“I _was_ her,” Shelagh answered.

There was pin-drop silence around the table. Five sets of eyes bored into Shelagh, clearly begging to know more, while Trixie just quietly allowed everyone to process the moment.

“I was Sister Bernadette for about ten years,” Shelagh explained. “And Dr. Turner was married to his first wife, Marianne, for most of that time. But she passed away, unfortunately, after an illness, and after that...we grew closer.”

“So no one expected you to get married because you were a nun,” Val said. “That makes sense.”

“Well, that, and I was in a sanitarium for six months or so because I had tuberculosis. Your future generally gets a bit hazy when you’re diagnosed with a serious illness.” Shelagh took a sip of her drink as another round of stunned silence settled around the table.

“Is that all?” Phyllis asked after a moment. “You aren’t secretly a member of the Royal Family, or brewing bathtub gin out of one of the spare rooms-”

“No, I’m out of surprises for the day,” Shelagh said through a laugh. “But thank you for thinking I could be that interesting.”

“So when you two first met-” Lucille began, turning to Trixie.

“She was Sister Bernadette, terrifyingly efficient and completely off-limits for friendship. Or so I thought,” Trixie said, smiling. “And now Shelagh’s still terrifyingly efficient, but an excellent friend.”

“Gosh, Trixie, at least buy me dinner first,” Shelagh teased. There was a moment of shared laughter before Lucille spoke up again.

“No one’s answered my original question, though. Do you want us to call you Nurse Turner professionally, Shelagh?”

Shelagh took a moment to gather her thoughts before answering. “I do appreciate the offer, Lucille, but no. Patrick and I actually discussed this a little when I returned to nursing, and we were concerned that ‘Dr. Turner’ and ‘Nurse Turner’ would lead to confusion among our patients if they were trying to discuss diagnoses or treatments amongst themselves. And admittedly...I do quite like being Mrs. Turner.”

“Well that’s encouraging to hear,” came another voice from behind her, making them all jump. Patrick rested his hand on Shelagh’s shoulder from behind her chair, squeezing once in greeting before asking, “Are you ready to go home, Shelagh?”

“Unless anyone has any further questions?” Shelagh asked, smiling at her colleagues around the table before standing up and taking her mug to the kitchen. There was a flurry of “good nights” from all parties as Shelagh looped her hand through Patrick’s elbow and they made their departure.

“‘Further questions’?” Patrick asked once they were in their car. “Were you having a class I didn’t know about?”

“Not exactly,” Shelagh said. “I overheard Lucille asking Trixie why everyone calls me ‘Mrs. Turner’ and not ‘Nurse Turner,’ and that led to some, erm, revelations.”

“But why - no one knew about Sister Bernadette?” Patrick said, connecting the dots. “Not even Sister Hilda? I would think she was in the Order around the same time you were.”

“She had heard about a sister leaving, but she didn’t know it was me,” Shelagh explained. “Apparently there’s been so much upheaval at Nonnatus House over the last few years that our story has gone quite unremarked.”

“You’re not upset that Sister Bernadette isn’t more prominent, are you?” Patrick said, reaching over to take one of Shelagh’s hands in his. Their gazes met briefly before he had to turn his focus back to the road. “She - _you_ \- did important work during your time there.”

“I’d like to think I’m doing important work _now,_ too,” Shelagh said, smiling over at her husband. “And I don’t care about being recognized for it, whichever name I’m using. Frankly, I think I’d find it harder to do my work if Sister Bernadette’s name was still being talked about. I’d always be concerned that I’m not...living up to her standards, or that people preferred one version of me to the other. Not that there are _versions_ of me in the first place!”

“You have always been the same loving, determined woman I used to share an illicit cigarette with years ago,” Patrick said, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “I’d like to think you’re allowed to be more open about it as my wife, but even if you had stayed in the Order, I know you would be going above and beyond for your patients and colleagues, because that’s just who you are, regardless of the name you use.”

“If I had any doubts about the path I chose in life, that would have erased them,” Shelagh said. “You have always seen me so clearly, Patrick, and it’s helped me to see myself.”

“It’s mutual, my love. I don’t know how I would have handled certain events over the past few years without you helping me find my strength and courage when it was needed.”

“Oh, Patrick,” Shelagh said, waiting for Patrick to put the car in park and turn off the engine before reaching over to take his hands in hers. “Just listen to us. Timothy would be aghast if he heard all this ‘mushy stuff,’ as he used to call it.”

“Timothy’s not here, though, is he? Which means I can do _this_ without fear of unwanted commentary.” Patrick pulled Shelagh in for a lingering kiss. By the time it was finished, Shelagh had just about forgotten _any_ name she had had in her life.

A yell of “Mum!” came from the front door, startling them back into reality.

“Another name for the list,” Shelagh joked wryly. “But maybe we could resume what we were doing a little closer to bedtime?”

“With pleasure,” Patrick said, and they got out of the car.


End file.
